it.”
“Was it hothouse?”
“I saw a few spots on the petals. I’d guess garden grown.”
“Thorns?”
“Shaved off.” Which unsettled her and had her rubbing her bare arms. “God, I hope he’s not spying on me.”
“They often do.”
“It’s creepy.” Meliana drew her fingers across her throat and fought a chill. “I don’t want to be a bug under a microscope.”
“It’s a burden, I’ll admit.” Julie sat on the bed and let herself sink back into the padded headboard. “Tell me the truth, Mel—are roses the only thing this guy’s left for you?”
“That I’m sure of, yes.”
“Of course, this could just be the beginning of a more frightening agenda.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“I’m a cop. I deal in facts.”
“So do I, but I don’t tend to approach patients’ families and tell them I’ll be gutting their sons and daughters.” She heard wind howling around the eaves. “Andy McRae says it’s going to be a brisk fall.”
“And he knows that because…?”
“He maintains the lawns and gardens in the complex. Means nothing, Julie. Your mother knows as much about flowers as he does.”
“Whereas you and I know nothing.” A wry expression invaded her features. “I wonder what Johnny knows?”
“More than me and less than your mom.” She heard the door slam open and bang off the wall downstairs. “Ah, good, a looming confrontation. I should have gone ahead with that date.”
Johnny rushed in as if he expected the intruder to still be there. He had his keys in his left hand and a big red dog at his heels.
Delighted, Meliana went to her knees. Shannon barked and jumped on her. “I didn’t think you’d bring her.”
When he realized there were only the two women in the room, Johnny regrouped and shot Julie a dark look. “That was a short two hours.”
“Hey, don’t blame me.” Julie stabbed a finger at Meliana. “She guessed. Count yourself lucky Blackburn didn’t find out. He’d have been a wall in your face before you got up the stairs.”
“He’d have been flat on his ass in the downstairs hallway.”
Meliana ruffled Shannon’s silky ears. “I love it when men do the testosterone thing. Johnny, do you even try putting your clothes together?”
He frowned, glanced down at his jeans, T-shirt and jacket. “What’s wrong with them?”
The brown jacket looked as if he’d slept in it, the red T was torn and frayed at the hem and his jeans were the oldest pair he owned. Meliana hid her amusement. “Nothing, I guess. Kneejerk reaction. I see Shannon swallowed your last hairbrush.”
He moved his lips in a perfunctory smile. “I wasn’t thinking personal aesthetics when I jumped in my truck and raced down here. Is the rose gone?”
“Off to the police lab to be mutilated. Are you limping?”
“Eileen Crawford cleaned today. I tripped over the magazine rack.”
“Which she undoubtedly put back in its proper place. This isn’t a big deal, Johnny.” Meliana was going to repeat that until she believed it. “Some pervert likes roses and underwear. He left one and stole the other. Maybe he just wanted something pretty to wear.”
“Or maybe he’d rather you wore it for him.”
“You’re not going to be nice and let me delude myself for a few hours, are you?”
Instead of answering, he looked around the room. “You painted.”
“Julie and I did.”
“It’s called coconut cream,” Julie told him. “We thought it was more soothing than the scary harvest gold that came with the place and Mel let you keep because you apparently grew up in a time-warp bungalow with parents who still aren’t aware that several decades have passed since the mid-seventies.”
“She means the walls looked dated.” Meliana stopped an excited Shannon from hopping onto the bed. “That’s a white-on-white quilt, handmade by Johnny’s grandmother, Shan. You didn’t have to come all the way to Chicago, Johnny. I’m having the security code changed tomorrow. And I have a dog here most of the time.”
His frown deepened. “Where is Lokie?”
“Visiting my cousin in Joliet.”
He made a disgusted sound. “The kids’ll rip her ears off.”
“If they do, I’ll kick Joey’s butt from here to Honolulu. She’ll be fine. I taught her how and when to bite.”
Julie chuckled. Then she sobered and craned her neck. “Damn. Blackburn’s coming back.”
“With his sidekick Dick?” Meliana teased.
“Dirk.”
“Trying to lighten the mood here, Jules.” Climbing to her feet, she ran her fingers through Johnny’s rumpled hair. “You look like you lost the battle with a wind machine.” When his eyes—rather stunning eyes, she acknowledged—narrowed, she let her hand fall. “I don’t think I mentioned this, and I’m not sure if it’s relevant or not, but white’s my favorite color.”
“Yes, we know that,” Johnny said.
“Lokie’s a Samoyed, also white. I found her tied up on the front porch right after you moved to Blue Lake six months ago. The vet figured she was maybe five months old.”
“I thought you said she was a gift.”
“She was. There was a ribbon around her neck with a card attached to it. It said: ‘A beautiful puppy for a beautiful woman. She’s called Lokelani.’ I thought the Raymonds left her for me when they moved. There were always new dogs popping up over there. But then the roses started coming, and I started to wonder.”
“You think the rose guy gave you a dog?”
She regarded them both, her husband the FBI agent and her friend the cop. “White dog, white rose.” She drew a deep breath. “The white dog already had a name and, FYI, Lokelani just happens to be Hawaiian for ‘heavenly rose.’”
Chapter Two
They had a brief and mildly unpleasant run-in with Chris in the downstairs hallway. Johnny and Chris had been friends of a sort once. Then Johnny had gone undercover for two years and a great many things had changed.
“He was hitting on you at our wedding,” Johnny said as he helped Meliana into his SUV. “And he jumped on the first town house that came up for sale in our complex after we moved in.”
“He likes vaulted ceilings.”
“He likes you.”
“I like him back. But like isn’t love, and I’ve told him that at least a dozen times.”
“Chris Blackburn has the ability to be selectively blind and deaf when it suits his purpose.”
Meliana grinned. “Unlike another person in this vehicle, right? Will Shannon be okay while we’re gone?”
“I gave her food, water and a big plate of soda crackers.”
“You’re corrupting her, Johnny.” Propping her foot up, she retied the lace of her sneaker. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Where, yes. Why, no. Charlie Lightfoot’s a nutcase.”
“Wrong.